


Control

by DemiDoots



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiDoots/pseuds/DemiDoots
Summary: There are moments when Saeran struggles with who he was, what he's done, and who he's trying to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wholeheartedly blame [ijaeli](ijaeli.tumblr.com) because she drew [this](http://ijaeli.tumblr.com/post/156060529701/but-who-is-really-in-control) and I couldn't _not_ write about it

There were moments where he felt like he wasn’t alone.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Saeran focused on his breathing--in and out, slow and steady--so that he wouldn’t hyperventilate. As he counted out his breaths, he watched a drop of water slip from his red hair and run down the side of his nose only to get caught in the seam of his lips. A shaky hand reached out to turn off the running water, a few good splashes to his face having been enough to help snap him back to reality. 

As he grabbed a towel to dry off, his eyes traced over his features like they were something new, not something he saw every day. Sometimes it just hit him all at once how much he’d changed since he’d left _that_ organization. His hair was red again. It had happened faster than he thought it would, almost like just spending time around his twin had somehow sped up the process. He looked healthier, a little more filled out, a little more color in his cheeks (including darker circles under his eyes). He looked like Saeyoung.

It was almost funny. He looked like everything he’d tried to erase for years. When he was with _them_ , he didn’t want to look like his brother. He didn’t want to be reminded of his family. He didn’t want to be Saeran. He wanted to be Unknown, someone new and different and _better_. He wanted to be free from everything he’d left behind.

After Mint Eye fell apart, his world and identity right along with them, he was forced to rebuild again. And in what appeared to be his default way of coping, he did his best to erase who he’d been. No more white hair, no more dark clothes or leather, no more makeup. He wanted to be Saeran again.

But unlike the last time he’d left his life behind him, Unknown wasn’t willing to die quietly in the past. He lingered and demanded attention. He was in Saeran’s dreams, his idle thoughts, his reflection, in _him_.

Saeran braced his hands against the sink and started counting his breaths again. His heart was racing as he closed his eyes. He knew he wasn’t alone. There wasn’t anyone in the bathroom with him but he wasn’t _alone_. He could feel it and he was afraid to look in the mirror. He didn’t want to see that white hair or that knowing smile.

_In, two, three, four._

_Hold, two, three, four._

_Out, two, three, four._

When he moved in with Saeyoung, he’d been adamant about not taking medication. He didn’t want to feel numb or fuzzy or sedated, not again. But there were times, when he could feel the prickle along the back of his neck or just barely hear his own voice in his ear, that he wondered if it wouldn’t be better. If it would help keep that other part of him quiet and locked away deep inside, he was almost willing to try it. Because outside of Mint Eye and their control, Unknown scared him. He knew better than anyone what that part of him was capable of, and the last thing he wanted was for it to be unleashed on the people he’d come to care for.

“But would it really be so bad?”

Saeran grit his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. His breathing rattled as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. He was there. Unknown was there. Saeran could hear his voice, not just in his head, but he could _hear_ it as vibrations in the air around him, as real and clear as if he was standing right behind him.

Breath tickled the hair on the back of his neck as cold hands gripped his shoulders. “What was really so bad about being me?” Unknown asked. “We had more freedom, at least. No brother playing keeper or doctors ordering evaluations. Just our orders, jobs with only a few loose rules.”

 _“No,”_ Saeran wanted to say. He wanted to argue that it wasn’t freedom, it was manipulation. There had been no love, no friends, no future. But he couldn’t speak. Even if he had confidence in his voice, he didn’t want anyone to hear him talking to himself in a locked bathroom. He didn’t want to be sent back to the hospital.

“You left Saeran behind you once, you could do it again,” Unknown taunted as fingers tickled the skin at the base of his throat, dragged over his sweater to tighten on his arms. “There’s always a demand in the world for talent like _mine_.”

The tattoo that covered the upper half of Saeran’s right arm began to itch furiously. He wanted to scratch it, keep scratching until his skin was raw and beyond if he could, until every layer containing ink was gone. It was the worst reminder of the worst part of him.

 _‘I have talent,’_ Saeran reminded himself. It was something he’d been working on with his counselor. _‘I, Saeran, have worth. I’m good at fixing things. I’m learning to cook. I like to read. I help the RFA.’_

A heavy sigh ruffled the hair by his ear as the hands on his arms traveled further down to pry his hands away from the sink. “Poor Saeran,” Unknown cooed as he pressed his cheek to Saeran’s. “Poor _pitiful_ , _sickly_ , _burdensome_ Saeran.” Unknown wrapped his hands around Saeran’s, and even with his eyes closed, he could feel the familiar sensation of a gun in his hands; the textured grip pressed into his palm, the cool metal as his finger was pressed lightly against the trigger. “We could be _useful_ again.”

Saeran’s heartbeat was palpable in his chest, so strong it felt like it was rattling his ribs. He was shaking. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to hurt people again. That wasn’t who he was anymore. “No,” he finally spoke up, opening his eyes. He stared at the teal eyes in the mirror and would swear he could see the white hair hanging around them, but he was too afraid to look away and confirm. If he looked away, he got the distinct impression that he would lose. Lose what, he wasn’t exactly sure, but it was _something_ and it was _important_. His voice was soft and wavered a little, but he was able to say, “I’m useful _now_ and I’m taking control of _my_ life.”

“ _Your_ life?” Unknown laughed, squeezing his hands tighter around Saeran’s, imprinting the pattern of the grip onto the skin of his palm. “I’m part of you,” he reminded. “And I always will be. Whether you like it or not, it’s _our_ life.” The pressure around Saeran’s hands lessened as Unknown began to pull away from him. 

The phantom presence began to fade bit by bit until Saeran felt like he could finally breathe again, but he heard inside his head, in a voice that blurred that distinct line Saeran tried to draw between his past and present, _“...but who is really in control?”_

A loud bang against the bathroom door had Saeran nearly jumping out of his skin, and it was only when one hand flew to cover his mouth (and muffle a startled yell) that he realized there was no gun in his hand. There never had been.

“Saeran?” Saeyoung called through the door. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Saeran answered, but when his voice cracked, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, and Saeran held his breath as he hoped his brother wouldn’t question his answer.

“Okay,” Saeyoung finally said, but even through the door his tone was concerned. “Just wanted to let you know dinner’s ready. We’re waiting for you, so hurry up.”

“Yeah, okay, be right there,” Saeran told him and released his breath when he heard Saeyoung’s footsteps fade away.

Looking back at his reflection, Saeran turned on the water again and splashed a few handfuls in his face as he waited for his heartbeat to calm down again. He picked up his dropped towel and turned off the water before drying his face and the fringe of his bangs. It was only red hair around teal eyes again.

“ _I’m_ in control,” he said to the quiet bathroom. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to answer an unspoken question, but doing so still made him feel better. It helped solidify something he still questioned from time to time. And for now, that would have to be enough.


End file.
